CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE - BROKEN-TOOTH

"Bloody hell."

Sersa Bayai looked... poor. Not remotely as burned out as Canima was rapidly becoming, but he had a slightly frayed look about him, a feeling of things not quite aligning as they should. His coat was marred with more spots of dust than he'd usually allow, his hair wasn't perfectly combed, his moustache had a few stray strands, and there was a tiny line of sweat just under his hairline. Tanner knew the feeling - he was performing personal triage. Dedicate the mind and body to certain goals, leave other things at the wayside, amputate one's habits piece by piece by piece, until either the body found a new equilibrium in this higher-stress environment, or it failed completely. Easiest to amputate elements of hygiene, elements of one's bearing or stance. But Tanner knew where it wound up, in the end. She'd amputated parts of herself, and... at this stage, she wasn't sure if she had any habits remaining. All the little things she did back in the inner temple were now completely irrelevant. Her work habits were gone, replaced by either 'working', 'travelling to do more work', or 'sleeping'. Once upon a time, she'd practically been able to time her mornings down to the second, and enjoyed the entire process, laying out her clothes for the following day, realising that she'd put on her socks a second faster than usual, finding that her hair was behaving just as it should... amputated. She dressed however fast she could dress, she slept whenever her stamina ran out, she was divorced from time as a meaningful unit. Time, for her, existed solely in the form of others - when were they available, when were they acting, when would their plans come to fruition.

She timed herself based on schemes beyond her control. No wonder she was cracking a bit.

"Why on earth do you need contamination?"

"It's... a little delicate. I assure you, it won't involve the colony's safety, nor will it involve any human save for myself."

"I notice you said human."

"...yes."

There was a small pause. Bayai ran a hand through his hair, sighing slightly. Yan-Lam quietly pushed a chair behind him, and he gratefully sat down, stretching out his long, well-muscled legs, the caps of his boots gleaming in the firelight like polished chestnuts. Tanner soldiered on, despite her usual inclinations. Snip, another feature surgically severed.

"I imagine you have purified contamination in your stores. The mutant-hunters carried around small amounts to lure in mutants, if your presence here was specially adapted for mutants, I..."

"You're right. Small amounts, very well-sealed."

He hummed, drumming his fingers on the arm-rest. Never used to do that - she was witnessing yet another amputation, this time not her own. Interesting, seeing it from the outside.

"I trust your judgement on... how to use it, I know you won't be dumping it into water supplies for a laugh, or using it to poison someone's tea. Presumably. But I'm concerned about the use of it in general, given our limited supplies."

He coughed, glancing at Yan-Lam, unsure if he should keep speaking... Tanner's nod propelled him onwards.

"I mean, we're about to fight a very healthy quantity of mutants, and they go bananas for this stuff, the purified version is quite literally the top of their list of things they want to eat. Contamination from any other mutant is going to have side-effects, no matter how careful they are. The point is, are you certain this is completely necessary?"

Tanner nodded again.

"Completely. And... if I can be blunt, I don't think any amount of contamination would work for luring these mutants. Lantha said they worked together, so..."

Bayai stared ahead sightlessly for a moment, as if a vital connection hadn't formed in his brain... then it clicked, and he ran a hand over his face as if in prayer, cleaning away the thin silver line of sweat, which reformed a second later regardless, crawling across his scalp like a tiny, hair-thin worm.

"...right. Of course."

Had he forgotten?

Or had he chosen not to think about it?

Certainly, he was back in reality now. The mad, mad reality.

"Right. Right. So... yes, I'll fetch it myself. We make it in the form of vials, will you need..."

"Ideally I want to be able to access it in very small quantities for an extended period."

A twitch. But no objection.

"In solution, then. No adulterants, but it'll be diluted."

Tanner hummed in agreement, then pressed on.

"And... one thing. Just a small thing. The mutants in the city, I understand only two of them are alive-"

"One."

Tanner froze.

"One?"

"Guard said there was just one left, now. He updates me on the deaths. Haven't gone up to inspect it, but-"

"Did he say which one was still there?"

"One of the males, I think."

Ah.

Well. That made sense. Meant she had to take one fewer detour, at least. And with that final titbit, Bayai stood and nodded sharply.

"I'll be off, then."

A pause, and he put his words together.

"How are things around here? How's the investigation?"

"Proceeding, but I can't... comment on anything specific at this stage."

"My men said there was a damn racket last night. Is everything..."

"Had to do some remodelling, part of the investigation. Promise."

Yan-Lam nodded rapidly in confirmation, and Tanner shot her a small smile. Bayai whistled between his teeth, eyes clouded by doubt. Gods, he looked tired. He wasn't a very senior officer, just a Sersa, but he was expected to run... basically the entire military force here, while preparing to fight enemies from within and without. His only two peers in the military considered suspect, his immediate superior a secret policeman rather than a proper governor or general... he wasn't a Great War veteran, either. She wondered how he was coping. If he was coping, that is. Maybe he was burning out the muscle fibres of his brain too, purging them one at a time. A slow, consistent, and permanent reduction in all cognitive capacities. Autolobotomy. Same thing she was doing to herself, honestly. Didn't know him enough to know how close he was to a breaking point. Couldn't ask, the situation wasn't... there was just no way of doing it properly. If there was, she didn't know it. If someone truly asked her if she was well, she'd shrug and say that she was fine, act like a professional. Confession was draining, it emptied, and once you stored up enough, the fear was that confession would drain everything and leave nothing behind, including the resilience necessary to keep going.

A suit of armour without something inside it was just a pile of metal. It needed internal pressure to be worth something, just as a pelt was nothing with muscle, bone, blood, all the churning organic functions underneath.

Relieve the pressure, collapse the shell.

So she stayed silent. Didn't... know how to talk to him. And he was going, going... gone.

Leaving her alone with Yan-Lam. Tanner sighed slightly, rose, and moved for the heavy leather bag filled to the brim with protective gear. Yan-Lam immediately trotted to the door and locked it, giving her a hint of privacy as she got to work. Heavy trousers. Heavy socks. Heavy boots. Sturdy sweater that felt like it could resist everything short of a bullet. Leather greatcoat that shone with a whole litany of protective chemicals. The gas mask stayed off for now, as did the helmet, but... as she tightened every strap, fastened every button, put the entire costume together...

She felt better. Quite a bit better. Only her head lingered now, poking above the high collar. Put on the helmet, and Tanner as a person ceased.

Yan-Lam stared in naked appreciation.

"Is it all fitting?"

"Oh, yes miss. Very well. Look ready for anything."

Tanner smiled faintly.

"Thank you. Where's Marana? Need to talk with her before I go."

"She's... in the dining room."

"...doing what, exactly?"

"Sleeping."

"In the dining room?"

"There's a chaise-longue in there she enjoys, I believe. And it's not like... anyone is really eating there any more, the servants are all gone, Canima takes his meals in his office, the cook eats in the kitchen, the soldiers eat with each other downstairs..."

How had Tanner not known she was in there?

Useless.

Yan-Lam stepped forward slightly, face pale, hair almost luminous.

"Miss... are you looking for that mutant again? The one with red hair?"

"If I can. Need something that can track contamination in harsh conditions."

"You could use a detector."

"The sensitivity on those isn't perfect, hostile wind conditions scramble it all, and there's... a little ambient contamination in the air anyway. Makes everything complicated."

"...I just..."

The maid paused, and...oh, gods, she was kneading her skirt. Gods, did Tanner look like that when she did that? Gods. First Ms. Blue, now Yan-Lam...

"...I just don't like the idea of you wandering around with a mutant. I mean, you've... almost died a few times now-"

"Once."

"...you said you were captured, you escaped, were chased by a man with a gun, then almost died in the cold..."

Tanner flushed under her coat. Gods, she loved how concealing this thing was, there was nothing she could knead, too. Her option was standing stoically, sitting stoically, or walking confidently. The boots and coat allowed for nothing else. Should get Yan-Lam one, that'd stop her kneading her skirt, which of course Tanner couldn't tell her to stop doing. Anyway. She spoke quietly, a little embarrassed.

"That was one incident. It just... took a while to resolve."

"Miss, I just don't want you... dying. Or anything."

It was Tanner's job to die out here. Her duty. Her damn privilege. Hard to explain that to a child, though. Irritatingly hard. Doubted Yan-Lam would... appreciate the idea, either, given how many people had died. Still. Tanner forced a smile onto her face.

"It's my job to do this."

Yan-Lam shuffled, and spoke in a low, cautious voice.

"...sure you... should do this job, then?"

Tanner blinked.

"Yes. Definitely. This is my job, I've trained for eight years to do it, my mother sent me to study, my lodge agreed, I only managed to get this job because... quite a number of people died and left me money for my studies. I mean, I've occupied the time of a huge number of people in order to learn, I'd just be disrespecting them if I stopped now. The governor brought me here, at great expense, in order to do this job. I was assigned to this colony by a Lord of Appeal, and I'm the sole representative of the Judges of the Golden Door. There's no-one else to do this job instead of me."

Yan-Lam stared.

Nuts. Tanner had elaborated too much. Amateurish mistake. Amateurish. Too many justifications.

"...yes, miss."

"It's just what I have to do."

"Yes, miss."

Her jaw stiffened. And Tanner desperately hoped she wasn't... ruining something. Either way. Had a job. The process of getting her equipment properly on for the first time took long enough for the courier job to almost be done, at least. Bayai swung by quickly to drop off the canister of contamination, a metal thing that looked painfully unremarkable for what it contained. That, and some rags. Open the container, place a rag near the opening, flick a tiny switch to open the front... then tilt the container into the rag for no more than a few seconds, flick the switch back, and reseal the container after washing the opening with a little water. The ideal was to leave nothing behind unless she was deliberately intending to do so. Soak a rag, let the mutant use it, then move on. He didn't ask where she was going, nor what she was doing. And in his eyes, she could see the same desire to just get on with his own job, while she got on with hers. Neither interfering with the other, nor assisting unless absolutely necessary. Components in a system which was larger than themselves, and would spin onwards for the rest of time.

Stolen novel; please report.

...so he...

He wasn't in control either. Canima was the sole source of higher authority for both of them, the sole source that wasn't a rabid criminal who'd tried to torture her to death. Just... an obscuring, secretive, weary old man who hadn't emerged from his room in some time, trusted no-one, had no agents that weren't paid off by the cartel, hadn't known about the cartel in the first place, and couldn't even tell her what she was looking for due to his loyalties. Actively obstructing the investigation of the murder of his friend and superior. An old, old veteran of the Great War who had never been meant to run this place on his own.

They were both just components in a system that he was operating.

Oh, gods...

In his eyes, she saw fear. A fear that reflected her own, though her face adamantly refused to show it. She took the contamination... and against her better judgement, reached out and... should she pat him on the shoulder? No, too familiar. A clap on the back? No, she'd break something. Pat his cheek a little? Never. Not happening. Not so long as she lived. A... hug? No, no. None of that. She reached out and took his hand in her own, her enormous palm swallowing his sturdy extremity whole - and she gave it a sturdy shake. Bayai blinked...

Shook back. Tanner forced another smile on her face, eager for the moment when the gas mask could slip on and she'd be free of the burden of expression.

"Good luck, Sersa."

His weary face twitched into something resembling a smile in return.

"Good luck, honoured judge."

* * *

Marana was passed out in the dining room. The curtains were drawn, and on the table were candles burned down to stubs, the heavy silver holders coated in melted wax that made them seem like odd rock formations. The lamp dangling above, concealed by shadow, seemed to be just as naturally formed, and in general, there was a distinct air of the subterranean, the troglodytic. The only light came from either the corridor beyond, or from around the edges of the curtains. Sharp slices of snow-flecked light, white as marble. As definite and straight as the bars of a prison cell. Marana was sprawled on a couch, and... Tanner could see an empty bottle at her side. One that Tanner rather keenly remembered. Usually, it'd be damn near luminous, even in this dim light. Citrinitas. Tanner's own. She'd... never really gone back for it. If the house had been compromised by poison gas, a part of her had unconsciously thought that there was no point sampling any remaining food or drink. Either poisoned deliberately, or contaminated by exposure. And... well... citrinitas was indelibly associated with home, with the inner temple, with her absolutely certain routines. Without the routines, she couldn't imagine it tasting as sweet, or hitting as hard.

Almost wanted to save it for a celebration. For a time when she could confidently say that everything was over, and she could get back to normal.

Emptied. Not good. Not meant to be drunk so quickly. No wonder she'd been alone in Tyer's house when Tanner returned from seeing Tal-Sar, she'd been... indulging.

Tanner reached down, and gently shook the older woman. Watching as she slowly stirred. There was a dead, waxy look to her, like her skin was detaching from the muscles beneath a little. Her veins stood out sharply, though. Purple and blue, like something from a creature other than a human. Nose swollen from liquor. Citrinitas was meant to be consumed in small shots, enough to wake up every nerve at once. Not a whole bottle at a time. That was just... at that point, you might as well... sometimes Tanner felt as though her entire body became really alive when she drank this stuff, like every single organ had been given new marching orders, imbued with new senses and a drive to keep going. Not just the orders, but the determination to exceed them. Maybe if you drank enough, your organs wluld become like larvae, charged by these animating chemicals until... well, they could move around on their own, think on their own, live on their own. Maybe that was why she looked so relaxed. The responsibility of running the body had been signed over the organic labour union, and central management could finally take a nap. Indeed, despite it all, there was... maybe it was just because she was asleep, and peaceful. Maybe it was the harmonious syndicalism of the organic unions. But her face had relaxed, and Tanner saw how much tension was born up in that thing. A shade of what she was like in her youth.

Tanner shook her again, and this time the tension came back, awareness with it.

Her eyes creaked open... not much thought behind them. central management still out for lunch.

"Marana?"

"Hrmph."

Not quite lucid.

"I'm leaving."

"...come back."

Ah, wonderful. Progress. Tanner tried to smile, but in the darkness it was basically pointless.

"Are you sure you're well?"

Marana's hand dropped down, and grazed the empty bottle. Her eyes sharpened a little, pricking with despair.

"...any more?"

"None. I... don't believe there's any left."

Marana said nothing. But she seemed to become slightly more... not tense, but simply resigned. Reality was calling to her, and she'd run out of her reprieves. Had to start clawing her way back, and was just trying to delay as long as possible. Still not totally lucid. Tanner had a sudden surge of alarm. Cocaine was used by some doctors from time to time, presumably they had stores of it ready for injection. She'd had a dependency on it, once. Back in Krodaw. Didn't want her getting to any. Intended to give orders to that effect, to anyone who would listen and be discreet. Tanner wrestled with her mind, even as Marana contentedly ignored her...

She murmured quietly.

Had to know. Had to know. Couldn't... ask so many things, ask how Bayai was doing, ask Yan-Lam to stop imitating her, ask Ms. Blue to stop idolising her, ask Tom-Tom to give up with her lunatic ambitions, so much unasked because she knew there'd either be no answer, or she'd only make things worse. So much silence. And she'd confided to Marana, in a moment of weakness, that she knew she didn't know her. That she knew none of her companions, really. Only parts. Already cracked the lid on that particular can of worms, so... here was Marana again, clearly out of it, and...

"Why did you lie about Fyeln?"

Marana mumbled sleepily, eyes sliding shut. No reaction to the question, no anger, no fear, no sorrow.

"...hrm?"

"Fyeln."

"...better that way... made me more wonderful... so... sophisticated... 'm old, m' tired. Being alone, too... no, don't think so..."

Her fingers grazed the bottle again, swinging back and forth like a clock's pendulum, slowing as she inched closer to passing out again. Well. That... that explained it. Odd, hearing it so plainly. Just wanted to be more impressive, then? So she'd... made up a story, then passed off her own flowers as gifts by an admirer, and... had she just slunk off from time to time to get drunk and had made up a story to cover for herself, seem like less of a drunk? It was... elaborate, she'd say that much. Must've taken thought, lie upon lie upon lie, a real concerted assembling of fantasy. Most lies were just scraps of text, some lies were short stories, she'd gotten halfway through a novella.

Had she always been like this? Or was this new?

...suddenly, she thought of Canima. Directly above their heads. Old. Strange. How many of his airs, how many of his quietudes were just a way of seeming... how much of Canima was an act? How much of him was like Marana, pretending to be mysterious in order to seem more competent? He was a man, he was still human, how... complex could he really be? The governor had done the same, acting all tough and paternal... and Marana, the surrealist, more suave and confident than Tanner, insisting on this ruse to seem like a more complete individual, Tanner's superior in every respect, and worthy of respect by someone younger than herself, stronger than herself. Tanner herself, tough judge, tough individual, professional and capable and...

Oh, gods, how much of this was an act? How much of... of Canima, of Tanner, of Bayai, how much was just... pretend?

How much was just them doing the same as Marana, lying about a relationship to make her image more perfect, massaging reality when it didn't quite go along with how Marana the character really was?

Tanner didn't know Marana. She just knew Marana-as-role. Marana the person was buried underneath it. Maybe there was nothing there. Maybe no-one had anything there.

Another thought ran through her. A very ugly one. But it demanded asking.

"Marana?"

"Hm..."

"Your sister is... with Algi, yes?"

"...silly girl. Y... Y'know, all kiddies, got to... reb-el, me, surreal, spooky, wooo... her, well, can't be like me, needs to reb-el 'gainst me too, so becomes... flamin' monarchist. What a... goose..."

Tanner pressed on.

"Did you ever hear from him about Eygi."

"Hm?"

"His sister. Eygi. Did he ever talk..."

Marana twisted, trying to turn away from her, to sleep in greater darkness. Tanner held onto her shoulder, though. Reminding her that she was still here, no matter what. Had to know, had to... Lyur's words had stuck with her since he tried to kill her, but panic and necessity had driven them away. But now... now she was thinking about too much, might die out there, had time to settle affairs - a little. Didn't want to be too final, that felt like inviting a poor fate, like cultivating bad luck, but... she had to know. Had to know. Just so she knew what to think when she was lying bleeding to death in the dark and the cold. Just so she knew the name that should be passing her lips when she whispered her last.

Marana spoke sleepily. She was completely out of it, likely wouldn't remember a thing. There was a reason she came to places like this to... do her business. Quiet. Reserved. Fit for someone to disintegrate a little, without the company of others, the eyes of others, the shame of others.

"...don't tell Tanner. Don't tell Tanner."

"Don't tell her what."

"...sister... he talked to her, time to... time. She came up. Once. Just... once. Family business. Had a letter... letter with her, said she meant to reply. Said it was..."

Tanner's heart beat a little faster.

"...said it was a clingy girl from her academy... clingy, naggy, kept... said she was like... just kept hanging around... kept sending letters, said she was just a random girl, but got... odd, got odd, like... like limpet. Thought she was infatuated, somethin'... somethin' like that. Kind of a... like... they'd talk, say someone 'was a bit gianty', meant they were obsessed, too friendly, bit... odd..."

Her heart slowed.

She just felt... drained.

"Oh."

"Don't tell her, gotta keep quiet, y'hear... quiet as mouse... she's nice, good, just... too 'ttached..."

Tanner stood slowly.

"Thank you."

Marana said nothing. She was completely asleep.

For once, Tanner's mind was fairly empty. No ramifications, no consequences, just... a fact that now sat in her mind, brooding like a gargoyle, lurking over everything else. She didn't consider it. Just allowed it to settle into place, shaping everything. But no panic. No dramatics. No flouncing. She kept her decorum, her dignity. Just glad... glad she'd been reserved with her letters, the ones she sent. Glad she had never sent a letter until one had come from Eygi, never sending two in a row. She'd not... not embarrassed herself too much. Her face was utterly, utterly flat as she left.

Left Marana to the darkness of the room. And to the empty bottle that glittered with snow-light that entered through crevices in the curtains.

Time to go.

* * *

She did all she had to. And now... the colony flitted around her, barely noticed. No hysterics, of course. She still had a job to do. And what did it really matter? Not like she'd sent a letter to Eygi in some time, not since she arrived in this place. Not since a telegram from that place with the surrealists. Infatuated... no. Nonsense. Just... well... Tanner didn't have friends, really, not before Eygi, so that meant she naturally overlooked a few details. This was a rational product of her own inability to function, Eygi was still a perfect young lady who'd been friendly when she didn't need to be, tolerant when she had every reason to be the opposite, patient in conditions of intense annoyance. Accepted the letters, replied to them in a polite tone, and put up with Tanner all the way through her years at the inner temple. Really, Tanner had been the one at fault. She'd been clingy. She'd been naggy. At no stage had she been a good friend, Eygi had just been an outlet for stress, a point of catharsis. That was no foundation for a friendship, now was it?

Her footsteps increased, protective gear flapping around her in the stiff winter breeze.

Not a solid foundation at all. And even when annoyed by her, even when her life had been slightly dimmed by Tanner's presence, Eygi had still given her a bed to add to her own, made her vastly more comfortable, eased her into a new life, bought her a pie, showed her the absolute apex of a sociable individual, functional to the point of brilliance. Eygi was still a perfect young lady, Tanner was just the troglodyte that had shambled around, clinging to her. And... the shadowy version of Tanner, the ink-and-paper one, the one of memory and impression... it'd changed. Out there was a lady her age, a noblewoman and an esteemed socialite, a member of the Ferlug Folio of the Fidelizhi Feminine, who regarded her as the most shambolic creature to have ever lived, a clingy creature that... had a paper trail to prove her enduring attachment to someone who clearly didn't especially like her, and didn't want to have a close friendship. Oh gods.

Oh gods.

She could imagine some young judge doing a project on her, after this was over. Arrogant, but... follow it through. A young judge researching the Rekida Incident, studying this... other young judge, this giantess, who, alone, did... something. Maybe achieved unusual success, maybe just acquitted herself admirably before dying, maybe just did her damn duty even in awful conditions. Maybe just tried her best. Either way. This judge would need documents. Examinations of her character. No diary to dig into, judgements usually had very little personality, everyone in the colony might be dead, so no references from them... they'd find Eygi. They'd find the letters. And slowly, the enthusiasm in the young judge would dim. They'd put it all together.

Delusional giantess, overly attached, neurotic, freakish, naggy and clingy. Oblivious to obvious social cues. Not a heroic figure, not even admirable. Just a sad creature that was probably infatuated with Eygi and refused to leave her alone. A stalker. She hadn't done her job in the colony because she was impressive, she'd done it because she was a dull, slow, stupid thing that couldn't think of any better way. Her death was avoidable, the fate of the colony was avoidable, because did anyone really expect such a creature to do her job perfectly? No, she just did it like a blind mule, stumping forwards without skill or flair or talent. Until she was worn down, collapsed, and could be processed into glue.

She'd carved an impression into the world, through experience and writing, and now that was the single most complete testimony of her character. Her mother hadn't really lived with her for eight years. Her tutors knew her as a judge, not as a person. Her lodge had never really cared for her personality.

The most concrete record of her character were the oblivious, oblivious letters she'd sent to a woman who had only tolerated her.

She kept walking, and kept her face utterly flat.

Never blamed Eygi for this. Never.

Never. Just herself.

The walls of the colony drew closer, and she nodded vaguely at the guards, lost in her own little world. She stepped out into the blinding beyond... and immediately mounted her gas mask. An atmosphere closed around her, her vision dimmed as dark glass of a slightly different hue shielded it, her mouth and nose filled with the taste and scent and texture of filtered air. Each breath came with a low rattle as the filter processed it all, as it wound up through the tube and could finally get to her. Good. Good. Her face was utterly flat as she entered the wilderness. Thought she... could vaguely place things. Her memory-room was still functional, at least. The cold-house over there, where Vyuli held court. And... if she gauged distances, though it was difficult, she could just about narrow down where the steam fissure had been. The area she had to search wasn't enormous, a fact she was deeply glad for. Though... no, actually, on second thought, she'd quite like to wander around the snow fields for as long as possible. When she moved, when she struggled through drifts that came up to her waist, when she rasped every breath through layers of filters, when she felt her muscles bunching and coiling like steel cables, she felt pure. She felt clean. And her thoughts subsided down to the most basic elements of survival.

Debating her legacy was irrelevant at this juncture. All that mattered was surviving to see tomorrow, to do her damn job.

...but if she was doing her damn job...

What for?

To help the colony, obviously. To do her best to assist the colony's existence and endurance. And... justice. Yes, justice. Fulfilling the law's demands for punishment of the guilty, for the betterment of the innocent and the wronged.

...sure.

Sure.

She wouldn't need to be going to the city, at least. The breach remained open, but... well. She could almost guess what was waiting for her.

And as she crested a hill with little effort, she saw her. Waiting.

Staring with ruptured eyes.

Slunk to an abandoned place in order to nurture herself in silence, waiting to incorporate the contamination into her body, to devour the ash in peace. Still growing larger, would take time for her meals to have their full effect... but her skin definitely had a certain ashen quality to it. Just a little. Eerily good at camouflaging her against the snow. The mutant just... sat there. Patient as patient could be. Why, had she feared the male back in the city trying to rip her apart with new strength, his stomach full of the bodies of the others? Had she feared the process of actually getting back there in the first place? Had she followed the scent of contamination out here, maybe left by Lantha, maybe something more ambient, maybe the stuff that'd drawn Lantha in to begin with?

A mutant lured by the steam. Her eyes betrayed no answers.

Maybe she'd thought that Tanner would come back.

Tanner prepared a quick rag of contamination. Purer than before. Needed to escalate - wouldn't be satisfied with little pieces of ash, not now.

The mutant didn't hesitate. Recognised her. Knew her scent. Her size. And she scampered up the hill, moving like a spider over the deep snow, never sinking more than an inch into drifts fit to swallow people whole. There were no paths here, no buildings, no shelter. What fell here remained until spring. And spring was a long way off. The mutant paused just outside of her reach, waiting... right. Cautious. Knew Tanner would still win in a fight, if she pushed herself. Her truncheon was at the ready, stiff in her tensed hand. Tanner reached, and presented the rag into her general direction. Snatched away in a second, stuffed into her mouth like a piece of food, mulled around like fine wine...

Sucking every last drop of contamination out of the fabric. Distressingly, Tanner thought the thing didn't even have saliva at this point. Why bother? Saliva made the mouth more comfortable - mutants had no mind for comfort. Saliva made it easier to chew and swallow - if a mutant needed to do that, it would produce saliva on the spot, only when necessary. Any bodily fluid would contain traces of contamination, would plant scents in the air, would shed valuable resources. So when the mutant handed the rag back... it was bone dry.

And when Tanner walked, the mutant followed, trotting at her heels. No need for a leash. The leash had always been pointless. A pretence at control, a pretence she was no longer willing to continue. Not after seeing Marana doing so much to act like a suave sophisticate, after seeing Canima with his airs of mystery and competency, after seeing Tom-Tom with her airs of insufferable purpose, like she had to do something, couldn't just sit back and let the avalanche play out.

They walked together into the snowy wasteland in total silence. Tanner knew the hills, knew how they rolled. The mutant only needed rags every so often, and she took to mulling them over for long periods, really extracting all she could. No point rushing ingestion when it would take time to integrate it all, and there was no risk of being challenged. Sometimes Tanner would just feel a hand of four-jointed fingers clasping around her ankle, clutching and stopping her in her tracks. A reminder that it was time for another bribe. And the cold eyes brooked no argument.

Made it hard to think of Eygi, too. The past and future vanished when you looked into the eyes of a mutant. All biology warred against viewing the creature, demanded to run, and made all flesh feel good, somehow. She was a functional engine. If she kept going, she'd live on, might even breed, do things no mutant could. She was a self-sustaining biological catastrophe that had kept going for thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years - and this creature wasn't, this was a rare exception, a chaotic error that would never be produced in this particular brand of awfulness. Every mutant, unique as could be, and sterile as a castrati.

Looking at a mutant was a kind of narcotic. The fear of seeing a wild animal. The sudden belief that her biology was good... and while it could be improved, it'd never be perfected. Looking into those ruptured pupils...

Looking into them was like getting a shot of clarity at the base of her spine.

It didn't take long to reach the right place.

Not long at all.

The distances were eaten up by a giantess who seemed to never tire, and a mutant who was physically incapable of it in the same way humans were. The only thing that could 'tire' a mutant was the tearing of muscle and snapping of bone, and that was only because it took time to heal. They said every mutant of sufficient age had muscle made of the finest muscle in the original body. Usually the heart. Every mutant was an enormous heart, and like a heart, they never stopped. Their muscles wouldn't permit it. Oddly, they made a good pair, at least for now. A regular person would sink in the snow, grow weary with undue speed, shiver as their bodies produced insufficient heat. Inside her protective gear, Tanner felt downright warm. Nothing escaped it, so her warmth remained in a perpetual atmosphere, clutching to her skin and twisting into her hair. Stewing in herself.

The mutant took the lead after a point. Sniffing the air.

Learning what Tanner wanted. Find more contamination. The mutant wanted more. And Tanner would keep feeding it if it looked. Eerie, how quickly it picked up the association. Not that it was trained - if Tanner stopped feeding, then the creature would run ahead and leave her alone. If there was nothing to be found, then Tanner had better keep feeding it. And if neither occurred... well. Then it would either leave, or tear her to pieces to get at whatever she might be hiding under that coat. There was no friendship here, no loyalty, just a contract. Brief, and entirely based on what the mutant wanted at any given moment.

Quite nice, to know where she stood. The mutant was oddly honest.

They clambered up, clambered down, did it over and over... and found the steam. A different fissure. But the mutant sniffed at it nonetheless... and moved on. Not much contamination in it. And clearly the mutant thought more would be elsewhere. Idly, Tanner wondered if the mutant had realised that a tunnel had been blocked off in the governor's secret office, and understood that this tunnel probably went somewhere. Figured out it might go here... or figured out that she needed to find an entrance.

And an entrance they found.

A little dark spot in a valley. Just where Tanner had suspected one might be.

Just a shed, really. Sheltered from the wind and snow as best as possible, though a drift still lay in front of that required quite a bit of digging to get through. Not as deep as she suspected - someone was keeping this place clear.

And inside the narrow wooden hut...

A cable.

And attached to the cable...

A metal chamber with a small glass window at the front. Shaped like a large bullet, the flat end pointing downwards.

She saw a handle. She saw levers.

She knew what this was.

And with a deep breath, she opened the lift with surprisingly little noise, door moving on oiled hinges.

Stepped inside.

And the mutant immediately followed, coiling around her legs to fit inside. Tanner shuddered.

And flipped the lever marked 'down'.

It did precisely what she expected it to do.

And into the dark they went.

Into the bowels of the earth.